


Aloe

by Isola_Caramella



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/pseuds/Isola_Caramella
Summary: A girl owns nothingUnbetaed, all mistakes are my own.





	Aloe

**Author's Note:**

> A girl owns nothing 
> 
> Unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.

Jaime blinks rapidly as he tries to reconcile the woman in the bikini with his wench. The milk white freckled skin is the same, the broad and homely face and the look of determination all Brienne but his wench does not own a bikini. He'd seen her take out her old lifeguard swimsuit with the long sleeve top and listened to a rambling mini lecture on UPF 50 protection after he'd teased her. I burn Jaime, not tan, she'd said as he stood behind her.

But this was definitely a bikini and it was definitely being worn by Brienne as she made her way to a lounging chair in the shade. Jaime shifted in his chair under the watchful eye of Malthar Qo, turning back to the man he was meeting with when his body settled into a dull roar of a lion content to watch his prey at the watering hole.

“Your wife?” Malthar asked, inclining his head towards where Brienne has made herself comfortable.

“No, just a friend.” Jaime answers distractedly, watching the tall, lanky server lean in close and make Brienne flush from her hairline to her toes. Outside of when he spars in the ring with Brienne, he's never hit a woman in his life but the urge to at least accidentally push the server into the pool seems like a good idea.

The server finally takes Brienne's order and scampers away, allowing Jaime to turn his attention back to Malthar, current owner of one of the oldest boat yards in the Summer Islands, going over his father's specifications for the newest members of the Lannister fleet. Hurricane Drogon had done irreparable damage to much of their ships, breaking as easily as Tyrion used to break his toys to gain father's ire.

Late afternoon sun blinds him as he searches for Brienne in the pool, seeing her towel still on the chair and the cheap romance novel resting on top of it. As much as she relished reading about romance, she was oblivious to it staring her in the face. Assuming that Jaime made her tag along because he would be bored on the hours long flight or that the resort had booked the one bedroom king suite in error. If it had been Margaery skipping halfway around the world with whichever new costar she found, he'd never hear the end of it.

When he'd shipped three dozen peonies from the Vale, it was because he was trying to embarrass her at work, when leather face Clegane picked a single dandelion for Sansa it was every princess story come to life from her old fairytales. Clegane, a romantic, it was enough to put him off food.

He finds the wench sitting on the beach, an empty drink glass held carefully in her large hand. Jaime can see the sunburn beginning to settle over the her endless freckles, Brienne had told him she didn't tan so much as she turned red as a lobster before peeling. It wasn't like her to sit in the sun uncovered.

“Wench,” Jaime has to shout, breath catching as Brienne turns to smile at him, soft blue eyes and a look of relaxed contentment she never shows making his pulse race, “what are you doing?”

“Hi Jaime! I was looking at the water, I've never seen water that matches your eyes before. It's so beautiful.” She gushes happily, almost reverently.

Jaime sinks down next to Brienne on the sand, shock and thrill running through his body as she inches close to him, resting her head on his arm.

“Have you been drinking wench?” Jaime has to ask as the weight of her blonde head seeps into his bones.

  
Brienne is not an affectionate person, despite Jaime's best efforts. Short one armed hugs or a brief shoulder squeeze are the most she's ever been capable of consciously. Gentle fingers had cared for him after the accident, bathing him, dressing him, all out of a sense of duty. The empty glass the only explanation for her current carefreeness, or physical compliments. The warm smile the only answer he needs as her long toes dig in the sand.

“I like your bikini.” He says when she won't answer.

“Marge. She took my good one without me realizing it. She said this one was better suited for a couples resort. Did you know this was a couples only resort?” The breathy, serene quality of her voice makes him want to never leave the beach.

“I did.” Jaime responds, taking the glass out of her fingers.

“You should have saved it, it's too blissful to waste on me.” Her nose is scrunched and the smile playing on her lips makes him want to close the distance between their mouths.

“I was trying to be romantic, doesn't seem to be working though. My stubborn wench refuses to accept any of my romantic gestures.”

Confusion mars her broad face, astonishingly blue eyes taking him in as if he'd walked off of a spaceship. The effect of too much drinking making her automatic denial stick in her throat. He can see the red of the sunburn getting deeper into her skin and pulls Brienne up, grabbing her hand to keep her from teetering on unsteady feet. The alcohol easing through her blood makes walking through the sand an obstacle. When Brienne starts to hum, Jaime is sure she's gone well over her tolerance of two sips.

Jaime grabs her towel and book along the way and a salve of aloe from the gift shop, remembering anti-inflammatory pills when the elevator is opening to their floor. It was too late to go back now, the sooner he could get Brienne showered and in bed, the better.


End file.
